


Unbroken Road

by Laytenn (Ayleid)



Series: Far Horizons [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Drama & Romance, Family Feels, M/M, Prologue, Secret Relationship, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayleid/pseuds/Laytenn
Summary: Francis Dailemont had four sons but no one had ever given him so much trouble than his youngest, Etienne and by proxy, his childhood friend Aymeric de Borel. An old Ishgardian nobleman's nostalgic reminiscence about the happiness of the past, unclouded by gossip and hurt. As a father, Francis swore to love and protect all of his children, no matter what the Fury would have in store for him. -- Introduction, and study about Etienne's backstory.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light
Series: Far Horizons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132031
Kudos: 4





	Unbroken Road

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: 7 years before "A Realm Reborn" begins. Ishgard.

Francis Dailemont considered himself a responsible father and nobleman. He had steered his four sons to the best of his abilities as a father and led the family business with a stable hand so the succession of his eldest would go smoothly. He provided a comfortable life to his beloved wife Cecile. The Lady of House Dailemont had the luxuries of capable servants and more than enough allowances at her disposal to manage the “internal affairs”. They had four beautiful children, all who they brought up with love and patience. 

Francis was, all things considered, content with the life he had created over the decades. It was not easy, having four sons would never be, but he had gotten used to the loud bickering and banter his children would orchestrate in the mansion. When it was quiet, Francis grew suspicious of their shenanigans. 

Decades had gone by and by the time his youngest, Etienne matured into a young adult, Francis had enough grey hair to donate silver, as his wife often remarked. His eldest son, Jahan was acting as his substitute in the company, his second-born Conrad was an esteemed scholar of Astrology and the third and most eccentric one, Julian had recently moved out into his own apartment on the Jeweled Crozier. 

Oh, but the youngest. Dear, pure-hearted and sweet Etienne Dailemont. Such a kind soul, Halone bless him. With his remarkable intellect and silly sense of humor, Francis always, always had an endearing smile when he thought of his youngest son and by extension, his best friend of all times, Aymeric de Borel. The bond of theirs was similar to twins from their early ages and Francis often had mistakenly called Aymeric his son in social gatherings. Eventually he had given up on correcting himself, for it was futile. Aymeric was just as a natural sight in the Dailemont household as Etienne would be at the de Borels. It had always been like this. 

He often ignited a cigar when the mood struck him with nostalgia. 

How their fortune would turn, how his days would gradually be filled with concern for his youngest and later, the family’s reputation... Francis was perplexed to evaluate where it all began. Of course, the first rumors had been whispered amongst those with little to do in their spare time, such as socialites and citizens short of achievements but enough to gain by maneuvering the gears of intrigue. Francis could never stand their likes and left the management of their family reputation to Cecile. 

As such, it was Cecile who came to him first with the hushed whispers of his dear son Etienne and Aymeric bordering the behavior of blasphemic degeneracy. How the young men would often gently refuse the company of ladies and prefer one another’s. Even if Francis knew of Aymeric’s remarkable devotion to his career, Etienne’s refusal to socialize among young maidens still struck him as odd. Jahan had a fiancé, and although Conrad’s thoughts were more occupied with the stars he found a like-minded soul in another Astrologian Midlander, and Julian… Francis did not want to think about Julian’s escapades. 

Etienne had always been a quite and reclusive child, Francis knew that. In his pantaloon-ages, his son would uncomfortably clutch his father’s hand, refusing to play with barely any other child than Aymeric de Borel. Perhaps it could be explained by the similarly calm nature of the de Borel boy, Francis thought back then. Aside from the little Lord, Etienne preferred the company of his older brothers so the fact that Etienne was not keen on spreading his circle of friends like miasma did not surprise the head of Dailemonts. 

It was the rumor of the boys developing a more profound bond than allowed by Ishgardian society. It was the rumor of his son (and Aymeric, for the matter), sneaking in the middle of the night to see the other in the officers’ barracks, Aymeric arranging Etienne’s path in squadron listings so he was at all times under his command, and Etienne refusing rank promotions so he could remain under Aymeric’s station. 

It was all so suspicious to certain elements, and thus gossip sprung out of idle talk. It had reached Cecile, even Conrad and Julian. 

Francis also recalled the one and only instance when Cecile prodded his youngest about the matter of establishing acquaintanceship with maidens, and the vehement refusal she was faced with. Even if Cecile was a gentle and considerate mother, Francis’ thoughts grew sorrowful at Etienne’s reply to her inquiries.

“Don’t you want children eventually, Etienne? My dear, you are of age to perhaps begin to think of building your own family.” 

“Well that’s not likely to ever happen, mother.”

The manner of his tone and his refusal to elaborate on the matter worried Cecile to such ends, she had terrible headaches for days after. In turn, knowing that his wife had failed in receiving a straight answer Francis knew it was his round to attempt wrenching some form of explanation from his son. At the very least, he was welcome to try. As the years progressed, Etienne had grown more tight-lipped than he had ever been...

Much to his surprise however, Etienne answered his summons right away. His youngest son, a capable young Knight of the Temple sat tensely in Francis’s office and after a long session of talks bordering on interrogation, he finally told the truth.

What Etienne told him terrified, shocked and befuddled the noble man to the core. 

“I am in love with Aymeric. That’s it.”

Francis remembered staring at his son, as if the young man told him the sky was in fact, green. Had always been.

“Etienne…”

“I don’t care what you think. What anyone thinks.”

At times, Francis wished his youngest son would elaborate on his thoughts in a bit more… lengthy ways.

“Son, I... “ the aging nobleman brushed his hair with his fingers and put his palms together in consideration. So it was true, all the gossip and rumors and what they entailed for the reputation of their family, the de Borels and their businesses. 

Francis recalled his mind already turning to conjure solutions to this problem. Even if he would press his son to maintain a facade of engaging in socializing with maidens, Francis could not bear the thought of forcing his son into a life of hypocrisy. After all, this was not the first occasion of men falling in love with each other in Ishgardian history, but the tales never had a happy ending. Both parties suffered a bitter life of secrets, grief and sorrow of denying what their hearts desired and Francis knew some lives ended prematurely by self-inflicted, purposeful harm. He sighed, a feeble attempt to ease the anguished tremble in his heart. 

He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Etienne suffer that fate. None of it. And yet, when he looked at the resolute, rock-solid determination in the boy’s eyes Francis knew that Etienne had made up his mind and his path was set. He wished that later Aymeric would clarify and disclose more information about the depth of their affair for he knew Etienne's reclusive nature prevented him from revealing any more details than what he deemed necessary. 

“How can I help you, son?” 

His question caught Etienne by surprise and the young knight was in thought for long minutes afterwards. Francis lighted a cigar and let his thoughts dwell upon all connections and possible routes he could suggest. He was already an inch into his roll of leaves when Etienne finally spoke.

“Receive us tonight, father. After supper.”

Even if his thoughts hadn’t paused, Francis nodded at his son. Etienne nodded back at him in reply, and from the purpose in his ocean blue eyes Master Dailemont knew, his son would soon depart and return with Aymeric. 

. . .

As a father of four sons, Francis had encountered enough trouble in his life but none had prepared him for what his youngest had in store for him. Etienne had indeed returned with the future viscount of House de Borel, and Aymeric had confirmed all rumors to be true. Cecile sat immobile by Francis’s side on the sofa for long minutes before emotions overwhelmed her similarly as Francis had been earlier that day. She eventually rose from her seat and walked over to her son and his chosen beloved, to hug them both to herself.

“Oh you. Oh my little puppets, what do we do with you two…”

Francis hid his eyes behind his palms, sharing his wife’s sentiments. 

He was not surprised to hear Aymeric’s voice when Cecile returned to her spot a bit later.

“We have considered our options and responsibilities, Master Dailemont, “ the young officer of the Temple Knights began, with Etienne nodding by his side. “We have sworn our lives in service to the Fury as Knights of Her Holy Fire, and we shall carry on our servitude. We are fully aware of the unprecedented threat our devotion to each other poses to our Houses and we will do everything in our power to defend our dignity and future alike.”

Francis nodded in appreciation, and looked at his son. So far, Etienne had been silent as was his habit in gatherings but as his father, Francis longed to hear his confirmation as well. Aymeric noticed the object of his glance and with a profound, gentle nudge of his head, instructed Etienne with his own gaze.

The young man finally raised his head and looked at his parents. When he spoke, his voice was as deep, calm and serene as always. Etienne had never had to raise his voice to deliver statements that could move mountains in Francis’s heart.

“Where others would lead lives in hypocrisy or allow their faithfulness to falter, we will remain together. They speak of corruption and blasphemy, yet all I see is our unbreakable bond. I love him, and that’s that.”

Aymeric smiled, and seeing that spread warm relief in the aging nobleman while Cecile hid her mouth behind her palm in sentiment. For a few moments the world seemed to still around the two young men, their gazes meeting for a fleeting glance so Aymeric could take Etienne’s hand into his own. “Thank you. Bold as always.”

“Eti, you must tread carefully my dear,” she said, her voice trembling from emotion.

Their son’s gaze allowed no quarrel, no question when he spoke next.

“I am not afraid, mother.”

“Nor am I,” Aymeric added, joining Etienne in looking both Dailemonts in the eye. “We will not falter.”

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose, still trying to come to terms with all this affair would mean for the future.

“At the very least, you shall attempt to employ more discretion. Naturally, our home is your home as well, Aymeric but I would advise refraining from performing antics in the Congregation of our Knights Holy and any space that might be infected with the presence of… insincere parties.” 

The young men nodded in agreement with him, and Cecile turned to Francis as well. 

“I shall undertake a thorough screening of our staff as well, Francis. We must be vigilant from now on.”

“Of course, and do inform me if you require help, my love,” involuntarily he reached to take Cecile’s hand in his own to comfort her. “Leave the worry of inquiries about our presence at gatherings to me from now on.”

“As you will it.”

Before he would announce the meeting concluded, Francis reached over to the small table in the middle for a cigar. “Aymeric. How about your end, Master and Mistress Borel?”

Much to his and Cecile’s surprise, Etienne buried his face in his palms in embarrassment and performed the worst attempt to hide a smile while Aymeric visibly bit the insides of his mouth to keep himself from smiling as well.

“My… parents…”

“Don’t say anything, don’t say anything,” Etienne hushed behind his palms while the end of his long ears were taking on a lovely shade of pink. Francis sighed as he leant back on the sofa and shared a knowing look with Cecile, whose one eyebrow was already up in her forehead.

“Eti, what have you done?” She muttered, glaring inquisitively at her son.

“He did nothing, I take full responsibility,” Aymeric raised his palm apologetically. “Months ago we were fooling around and filled one of my esteemed mother’s flower vases with wine, up to the brim. At the time it seemed like a great idea, but then my cat ended up drinking from it and threw up on Etienne so we returned to my chambers where I offered him new clothing.”

By the second half Francis was already smiling, one hand holding his cigar while the other hid his eyes as Aymeric’s tale visualized in his mind. Cecile was rendered speechless, eyes wide from the shock but of course, the young Lord was far from finished yet, his azure blue eyes glinting from mischief and amusement. 

“So I offer him new clothes, and he is in the process of changing when my mother discovers what happened and enters in all haste into my room while…”

“Shh, just--shh, stop it,” Etienne finally emerged from the cover of his palms, “don’t say it!”

“We were in a compromising situation my Lord,” Aymeric finished the tale while holding Etienne’s imploring gaze without flinching, although Francis recognized how amused he truly was by the recollection of such embarrassing events.

“Oh, Fury take you,” Etienne grunted and almost growled in annoyance, once more burying his face into his palms and even leaning ahead onto his knees in shame. “I thought I would die! On the very spot!”

“Needless to say my poor mother needed immediate attention, and explanation,” Aymeric continued on while putting a comforting hand on Etienne’s shoulder, even smiling at his friend’s suffering. “She had difficulties looking us in the eye for a few weeks but now all is well. In retrospect, they were more agitated about the wine we have wasted.”

“Well that is irrefutably juvenile of you both,” Francis agreed wholeheartedly. “We must make amends to poor Lady Borel and restore the diminished wine cellar of your house.”

Cecile looked at him in nothing less than appallment, “Francis! The gall! Our son had most definitely shocked Valérie, I must make haste and deliver our earnest apology!”

“No, Lady Cecile, pray forgive us for worrying you. My dear mother had moved on and does not consider it anything else than a necessary event that had to come to pass,” Aymeric explained, albeit with a tang of apology in his tone. 

“Whatever am I going to do with you two…” Francis took a long inhale from the cigar and blew the smoke out on the nearby window, away from his wife by his side. The young fools, reckless and in love, sat across the sitting room, sharing looks of amusement mixed with embarrassment from Etienne's side.

Of course, he wished others would have endeavoured to see the profound familiarity and devotion his son and Aymeric regarded one another. In retrospect, Francis re-visited and evaluated key events in his son’s life and how his identity as Ishgardian noble, Holy Knight of the Temple and friend of Aymeric de Borel had developed over the years. 

In truth, all three walked a tightly knit path and he was a fool to have been so blind to it all. 

He steeled his heart and prayed to Halone that night. His dear son and chosen beloved would need all the help they could gather from their families for what was to come. Their dedication to one another was only to be tested and defied by socialites and fellow citizens alike. 

Francis did not know, could not pretend to imagine how much would be demanded of his son in the coming years. He had raised Etienne to have backbone of course, but the trials Halone would set for his son and Aymeric had broken lesser men and women before. 

Even so, he could not prepare for the nightmarish image of his son appearing in his office not even a year later. 

Etienne, his eyes ghoulishly hollow and filled with sorrow. His breathing shallow and quick, his attire spreading the frost of the outside air as he ran inside as quick as his feet could carry him.

“I must leave, father.”

Francis sat immobile from the shock, feet rooting into the floor as his youngest, dearest son mouthed the words he dreaded all these years. His old heart shattered in pain, and Francis stood to immediately gather his child into his arms in a feeble attempt to comfort him and assure him that there must be another way. He was the head of his House, he had to find a solution and protect his son, defend his life with his own and provide safety and succor for his future. 

He had to protect his son from everything and anything… he had to find a way.

And he failed.


End file.
